But Joshua interrupted: “Not a word about the money, Bill, please. I want to forget it altogether. I must forget it.”
“I was gonta talk about Lee Sweet and Madge,” the freighter explained. “Lee Sweet, as Wolfgang told ye, he’s only tryin’ to scare ye into desertin’ yer claim. He ain’t any murderer. But when he gets drunk he may do somethin’ he don’t aim to; so I’m gonta get after ’im right away an’ let ’im know what a fool this gambler made o’ ’im. An’ tell ’im we’re onto ’im, an’ if he don’t be good we’ll spank ’im. I’m gonta take a few days off—I know a fella that’ll take the team for me—an’ go hunt Lee Sweet up. I know about where to locate ’im up th’ range, where he’s still roundin’ up stragglers an’ cows that’ve drifted into the mountains farther south. I want ye to be feelin’ fine for th’ night o’ th’ eighteenth, Tony, an’ have no worries on yer mind. ’Cause I got th’ feelin’, from what ye’ve told me, ye’re gonta be steppin’ high that night, an’ ye’re gonta nail ole Mars to th’ tree. So don’t fret about Lee Sweet. I’m goin’ after ’im, an’ see that he ain’t here to bother ye between now an’ then. And now about Madge. Don’t ye think for a minute—”
“Here—read this,” offered Joshua, and passed him Madge’s letter.
Bill put on his old steel-rimmed spectacles and leaned toward the light. He read the letter through twice, then handed it back.
“Well, le’s have a squint at ole Mars,” he suggested, “an’ then I’ll be on my way. I’ll get a saddle hoss to-morrow an’ ride Sweet down, an’—”
“But what do you think about Madge’s letter?” Joshua asked.
“I think somebody else needs spankin’,” said California Bill. “An’ it’s up to me to ’tend to that—seems. What do I do? Climb that confoun’ ladder?”
California Bill had not been in the saddle more than a few hours for several years. He was a prey to misgivings when he rode out of Ragtown the following morning on his way to Box-R Ranch. He reached the ranch shortly after dinnertime, and was told, as he had expected, that Sweet was to the south hunting drifters. So he set off over the desert, following the foothills, hoping to come upon the cattleman before nightfall.
In the middle of the afternoon he came upon a small herd being driven to the foot of the G-string road, but Sweet was not among the men who drove them. They knew that he was working farther to the south, but could not tell Bill just where to find him. So he changed position in the saddle and loped away once more, and by night had reached Gonzales Wells without having seen another living soul.